Living With The Dead
by Arron-Flanagan-1995
Summary: We live in Scotland. The world has gone to Hell, but we're doing the best we can. I've decided to keep an online journal of our experiences. I'll update as frequently as I can. If anyone reads this, let me know, just so I know that there are other people out there going through what we are. Good luck to you all, and take care. P.S. If I stop updating this, assume the worst.


I think the hardest thing about all of this is the fact that we have no guns. There are guns somewhere, there has to be, and if there is anyone else out there (which I hope to God there is) maybe they have guns. However, we only have axes, sharpened sticks and baseball bats.

After the Dunblane Massacre, where some psycho went into a primary School and murdered a classroom of five year olds and their teacher before turning the gun on himself back in the early 1990's, owning a gun was made illegal here in Scotland, and even trying to find somewhere to purchase such a thing became something very underground and black market.

I've never fired a gun. I think I actually might have shot metal pellets from a rifle of some sort and knocked over some empty bean cans when I was about nine. My brother-in-law was, what I would call, a Scottish red-neck. He did that sort of thing, shooting cans with a rifle, as well as hunting rabbits, being quite a racist, and getting blindly drunk on home-made alcohol in the middle of the afternoon. He wasn't a bad guy, just a bit of an idiot. My cousin told me that he died trying to save his German Sheppard from a walker. He died again when his wife shot him square in the head. Apparently she didn't even blink. She knew all too well that it wasn't her husband anymore, and she had a son to protect. She mourned for him later, but in that moment she had her priorities in check.

Then again, guns are loud. They draw unwanted attention, and I'm quite good with an axe. One chop to the leg disables them, another to the neck when they're down, and then one final blow to the head stops them completely. I've got it down to an art. It's not really in my nature to be violent, but I've always had a temper inside of me, and I almost find it quite therapeutic. Now I do anyway. At first it was traumatising. The walkers being beheaded were someone's relatives. They could have been family of people I know. Some of them are quite badly disfigured and rotted, so some of them could actually be someone I knew personally. I've never had to put anyone I know or love out of their misery the way my step-sister did. I know I could do it, and I would, but that wouldn't make it any easier to live with.

We've been pretty fortunate in terms of living arrangements. Our flat is in the centre of a small town with a large supermarket nearby for food and supplies, and our driveway is secured by a large black metal gate which can only be opened from the outside with a three digit code. When all of this began, there was a lot of looting and riots in our town and surrounding towns, but with the big black gate outside our property, it can actually be quite hard to tell from the street that there's actually a property there, or even a parked car. Pizza delivery guys always used to get lost and wonder where our home was. We would have to come down and wave from behind the gate to get their attention. Next-door is a small Chinese takeaway, and across the street is a larger Chinese takeaway and restaurant, so neither one really experienced any severe damage or incident apart from some cracked windows and graffiti. I think once people realized there were more important things to do than riot (and when walkers outnumbered the rioters) it all calmed down. The worst hit place near us was probably the local pub between us and the supermarket. Any expensive booze was gone within hours. Peanuts and crisps are in ample supply. Thankfully there's still electricity. I'm not entirely sure how the National Grid works, but apparently it's not some man sitting at a chair all day winding a crank that keeps it going. And with the amount of wind turbines we have here in Scotland, I imagine we'll have power for a while to come.

Over at the supermarket across the street, there's still plenty long-life milk and canned goods, but chilled and frozen products are running low. It's easy enough to go in and out without being in any immediate danger. Walkers are still present in our town, but less so than the bigger towns. I actually feel pretty safe going out these days. I'm more confident in my ability to protect myself, but I still only leave the flat if I really have to. Going on a leisurely stroll with the dog isn't an option anymore.

There's only one occasion where we went out without having any real need to. We needed (wanted) milk one night, so my partner and I went to get some. We tend not to go out after dark, but we both had a craving for cereal and our milk had run out. You might think that we'd wait until morning, and when this all first began we would have, but this was the new norm. Going out after dark is a hit or a miss in terms of walker activity, so one thing that's a definite is that we never ever go out alone. You can never be too safe these days.

We opened the gate and looked both ways before going out into the street. There wasn't a sound to be heard. Sometimes you can hear a groan or a shuffle from down the street, but not that night. The many streetlights and enormous illuminated green sign above the entrance of the supermarket kept us on the right track. Any suspicious shapes moving in the shadows would stand out. We always know to look behind and to the sides and ahead all at the same time whilst walking, axe and baseball bat in hand. Colin had the axe, because at this point he had a better aim with it. I was still a bit clumsy, but I was good at shattering a leg bone with the bat.

We made it to the entrance, two sets of automatic double-doors. However, when this all started, the locals had the common sense to make sure to pull the shutters down when no one needed in, and pull them up when need be. Otherwise, the doors would be opening and shutting every time a person or walker passed by, and if walkers ended up roaming the store, no one would feel safe going in for supplies. We pulled up the shutter, and just as we did so, we heard a noise from behind. Being as hyper-vigilant as always, Colin swung round with axe at the ready, and I dropped the shutter and braced my bat for impact. However, it was only another couple, a middle aged man and woman. They both put their arms up, and then we lowered our weapons. We all laughed quietly after it and we introduced ourselves. They were both dressed nicely, the woman's hair done up and the man's suit ironed. It was their anniversary, and they wanted a few bottles of red to have with dinner.

I went back to lifting the shutter, and one by one we all went under the shutter and into the store. I lowered it again behind us, quietly, making sure not to make any more noise than was necessary. There were a few people already in there. Colin and I recognised one of them, so we smiled politely and waved. Before we parted, I turned to the man and suggested that next time they venture out at night, it's probably best to bring some sort of weapon. The man explained that they normally do, but it slipped their mind that night because they were so caught up in the company of one another, and reminiscing about the past 27 years together when they left the house. For a split second, they forgot what the world was like now, and enjoyed the memories of the world they once knew. The anniversary couple went their own way, and we went ours.

We were in the milk aisle looking for the biggest carton, but we realised it was probably best to get a big box in the long-life aisle with 6 large bottles of milk inside it. We spent a little while looking for the product. We weren't entirely sure where it would be since we had no need to buy it in the past. We bumped into the person we knew in that aisle and we got talking to them. About five or ten minutes passed, and all of a sudden, an ear piercing scream echoed throughout the empty aisles. And then we heard the familiar snarling and groaning, and the crunching of bones and flesh. We looked around the corner and saw the anniversary couple, the man laying on the floor, trapped under the shutter, screaming in agony as two walkers feasted on his legs, and his wife, on her knees beside him trying to fight off another one that had grabbed her from outside, its rotting arms managing to reach under the gap. Her husband's body was keeping the shutter propped open just enough for them, and we could see their heads starting to peer under and look around. They must have been far off at the end of the car park where the lighting is minimal, otherwise we would have dealt with them outside before coming in.

Colin dropped the milk where he stood and ran over. I was less bold, but followed his lead. He always brought out the best in me. A few others in the store had the same idea, and we all helped to end the situation. We dragged the man towards us by his shoulders, the shutter falling to the floor, allowing us to deal with any walkers that were already halfway in the building. The man needed an axe to the head after the amount of bite marks and claw marks he had suffered. One man saw a claw mark on the back of the woman's arm, which I don't even think she knew she had, and with one swift blow, he had split her head nearly in two from behind with a machete of some sort. It was quick and kind. This all happened because they had no protection with them, and they obviously didn't look outside the windows first before opening the shutter. Always look outside, wait for any walkers to pass, and then go. And the worst part of it all was that they had picked up the most expensive wine and managed to shatter both bottles. We went back for our milk and left, even more on edge now that we knew just how quickly walkers could come out of nowhere, especially in the dark.

But we're lucky in a sense. Smaller town, smaller population. I think a lot of people fled to the bigger cities or caught the last flights abroad to be with family and loved ones before everything came to a climax. Therefore, the amount of walkers is a lot more manageable than Glasgow or Edinburgh. There's more food for them there, so they're faster and more agile. I dare say that walkers in the city would know how to lift the shutters of a supermarket door, or at least have the strength to. The thing is, the longer they're left to roam around looking for their next meal, the more their bones and flesh will deteriorate. They can only walk for so long before they finally rot. Colin and I are quite literally just waiting this out, whatever this is.

No one knows exactly where this all started. Maybe it was over in America, on the West Coast. A video of a man eating some policeman's neck at a road-block went viral after countless other cops shot him and he refused to go down. It wasn't until a head shot finally made him cease that people were using the term "zombie". It was fascinating to watch, if a little scary. If it hadn't been for the fact that it was on the News, I would have thought it was an extremely elaborate hoax.

I know what Americans are like. Brad Pitt directed a Zombie apocalypse movie, and he used Glasgow as his outdoor stage. Yellow traffic lights and American Flags were dotted around the City Centre to make it look like Philadelphia, and roads were closed off as hundreds of extras with rotting flesh make-up, and handsome actors and actresses ran around screaming and shouting. This of course was causing the real people of Glasgow to experience traffic and delays in public transport due to the multiple closed off roads and streets. He wouldn't dare cause Philadelphia to be backed up with traffic or angry locals, but over in Scotland it was fair game. I was in High School when they started filming. A few of my friends went to audition to be zombie extras. None of them made the cut. Apparently being a zombie takes a lot more skill than first thought. Nowadays, anyone can be a zombie, or "walkers" as they're known.

I think some man from California was being interviewed on the news when the epidemic broke out big time. It was one of the last News Reports that I can remember seeing on TV, if not the last, and he referred to them as walkers, and the internet just kind of caught on, and then the world. Zombies weren't real. These things were. Walkers sounded more ominous, although it took all of us here in the UK a while to catch on, because there's a very popular brand of crisps called Walkers over here, and every time I said it I imagined someone being chased down the street by a massive packet of cheese and onion. I think in other parts of the world, Walkers crisps are called Lays.

Speaking of Lays, or Walkers, we need to go out for food. It's twelve in the afternoon. The sky is blue, it's pretty warm outside, and it's dry. Spring in Scotland is always nice. Summer usually lasts a few weeks and then it rains, so we make the most of what nice weather we get. It's a Monday, and normally I'd be getting ready for work. I was a pizza maker in a large supermarket in the middle of the neighbouring town, Falkirk. When this all started, things like paying bills and going to work and all the normal stuff just stopped.

I haven't been into that town for months now. I'd imagine it's pretty bad. For a little over a week now we've seen dark smoke clouds billowing into the sky, and Colin is pretty sure they're coming from the direction of Falkirk. It hasn't really rained, but depending how big the fire is, rain might not be enough. There was a huge fire a few months back at the hospital near us. I think the dead (or un-dead) had become too overwhelming, and they tried burning the place down. It obviously didn't work, and for weeks after you would see walkers wearing blackened hospital gowns, or nurses uniforms, with melted flesh and charred hair. The smell that went up when they tried burning all of those bodies and the building with it was awful. It carried in the wind and lingered for days.

I've been active on Facebook since this started. It's a good way of finding out who's dead and who's not. The little green circle next to someone's name in the Chat Menu lets me know who's online and active. Some good friends of mine haven't been active for weeks, so I've accepted that they're probably gone. A good friend of mine messaged me a while back saying that she had to go find petrol from somewhere. We offered to go with her, but she said all seemed quiet that day and she'd be quick. When I go onto that conversation now, under her name it reads "Last Active 42 days ago." Not knowing what happened to her or where she is makes it worse.

My big brother, Jason, is still online, and we've kept in touch every single day. We've always been close. We're only a year and a half apart in age. He's smart, resourceful, and a trained fighter. We always used to joke about and discuss how we'd survive a zombie apocalypse. Now we joke about how we're doing pretty well since it has arrived. He lives in Edinburgh, Scotland's Capital City. He used to send me video messages of the outbreak from the City. It was awful. When things got really bad, you'd see groups of people holding hands and running into groups of walkers, just to put an end to it all.

Things have calmed down since then, but there's a lot more walkers now than before, and he says the numbers keep growing. Jason thinks that they've come from the countryside and the smaller towns, where there's less food. I think that might be why it's gotten quieter where I am. They've headed to Falkirk, or Glasgow (it takes about fifteen hours to walk to Glasgow from here. I checked a few years back out of curiosity, because I had no money for a bus. A walker could easily do it. They don't need to stop for food, or water, or sleep. They just walk, and keep walking). Jason doesn't feel as safe as he did before, and he doesn't drive. He has asked if we would come and get him and bring him through here. We haven't used the car since this all started, so we still have pretty much a full tank. Enough to get to him and get back. Even if we didn't have petrol, we'd find some. He's family, to me and Colin, and I know he wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. He might not want to say it, but he's scared. We all are, even after so many months. We're just used to it by now.

So after we've gone out for food and stocked up on supplies (more so than before since it will be three mouths to feed, not including our miniature Jack Russel and pet rabbit) we'll head to Edinburgh. I'm scared. I've gotten used to staying in the flat, or venturing down the street, but this is going to be a totally different story. I don't know what to expect. Jason's videos lately show the streets to be pretty full with walkers. He says that was a quiet day compared to usual, which may be true, but it's nothing like here. He'll be glad to get through here, and I'll be glad once today is over.

Colin is outside getting ready to start the car. I have to open the gate, let him reverse out, close the gate behind me, and lock it as quietly as possible before running to the car and jumping inside. We have to time it perfectly and do it as quickly and silently as possible. We only have a 16 year old Nissan Micra. We named her Molly. Molly Micra. She's not exactly perfect, and she has let us down in the past, but she better not let us down today. She's stopped mid-journey before, and we had to use the down-hill momentum to pull into the hard shoulder and call roadside recovery. If that happens today on the way to the City, and the walkers hear us, see us, smell us...

Wish us luck.

I'll update once we have Jason and we're home safe.


End file.
